"You will be SO happy"

We had drinks at the neighbourhood pub, and it was bittersweet, as all goodbyes are. Our usual easy banter was strained, tinged with sadness. I was excited to leave, but I was also heartbroken at the thought of whom I would have to leave behind. One of my best friends; my life-line, my confidante.

But we soldiered on bravely, because that's what we have always done. 

We've made jokes about explosive diarrhoea, managed to make people with multiple fractures laugh, and found the funny in hospital politics that are anything but.

He was my person at work. The one who made it not only bearable, but fun.  

And now it was ending. In that moment, I couldn't remember any of the reasons for leaving. 

All I could think of were the reasons for staying. Tears formed in my eyes as I was looking into my friend's eyes. I choked, lost for words. And I always was the one with the words. 

But then he spoke. 

"You will be SO happy," he told me firmly, grabbing my shoulders for emphasis.

I looked at him, torn between hope and sadness.  "How do you know?" I asked pleadingly. 

"Because that's what you always wanted," he reminded me. 

I knew he was right; yet, in this moment, I wasn't sure. All I wanted was to run back to safety, back to what I knew, back to my old job I complained so much about, back to the life Rich and I were both desperate to leave behind. 

I needed someone to remind me why I was doing this. 

And he was there for me.

He repeated: "You are doing what you've always wanted to do. You're doing the right thing. You will be SO happy."

I believed him, because he'd never lied to me. 

He didn't that night, either. 

I've had many moments of bliss since we moved, but yesterday, in particular, was special. 

I was sitting in front of my Little House, the house I had envisioned for 15 years. 

The two guys who turned my fantasy into reality were sitting next to me. We had a beer and I told them how much I love the little house. (Because I do.)

I told them how happy I am. (Because I am.)

Afterwards, I had a nap in my hammock while Rich and his friend went to the pub. Upon their return, Rich threw me over his shoulder, which made me feel all girly and him all manly.
We had dinner, and then Rich convinced us to take out the quads for a little spin. We drove into the sunset, the smell of lilac heavily in the air, deer grazing in the fields next to the road, the sky painted a brilliant pink, gold and orange. My hair blew in the wind, the warm air caressed my bare legs, and I threw my head back and laughed out loud with sheer joy.
We stopped by an old cowboy who gave us a beer, a tour of his place, and three jars of homemade pickled beets, relish, and dill pickles.

When I fell into bed, pleasantly tired and my heart bursting with the loveliness of it all, it occurred to me: This is my happily ever after.

My friend had been right: I am SO happy.

And I couldn't be more grateful for it all. 

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